


Look Alive, Sunshine

by pastelrebel



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Based on a Tumblr Post, First Meetings, M/M, Third Person Limited, app, handsy guy on a date, kinda makes character uncomfortable, kinda sorta non con but nothing that I think will be triggering, not that traumatic but a bit iffy, phil perspective, title is a shitty mcr reference and phil is the sunshine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:50:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6961387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelrebel/pseuds/pastelrebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil hadn't been on a date in a while, but for some reason he agreed to this one. He ends up glad he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look Alive, Sunshine

The guy's name was Tim and he was handsome in a way that didn't typically appeal to Phil. He was a bit short, broad and more muscular than Phil and all of his geeky friends alike. His skin was kissed by the sun, a soft golden shade that Phil himself had always wished for, but somehow knew wasn't attainable for boys like him. The way Tim wore his hair didn't really stand out- it was a dull sandy brown-blonde colour and kind of fluffy, but not really enough to compensate wholesomely. His eyes were a medium blue-grey with a soft, shimmering lining, like how they always said clouds had a silver lining when you were a kid and anything didn't go how it was supposed to go for you. Something about them was harsh to the core, but it had hypnotised Phil from the very beginning. Above his eyes, he really had no discernible eyebrows, but rather two caterpillars were perched upon Tim's wide face that had seemed so open at Louise's party, like he could walk right in and feel entirely at home. It seemed like he always had a bit of stubble on his chin and around his mouth too, but that might have just been neglect to shave that one night. Usually, Phil liked boys his height or taller, usually scrawny and nerdy like himself, and certainly not with facial hair. What had it been about this guy?

If we were being honest, Phil had been more than a bit tipsy, but not quite drunk. He was able to remember everything clearly, but at the same time his thoughts about it were less than sensible. Phil remembered laughing a lot, thinking Tim was funny and handsome. The disarmed face he had just drew Phil in and it was so welcoming. He hadn't wanted to leave, but Louise only had the venue rented for so long that night, so he had to leave the party. It was probably smart that he had, or he might have ended up at Tim's that night- Phil really wasn't that kind of boy, but it wouldn't have shocked him at all if Tim were. It was just a thing he often noticed with guys who were into him. Innuendo? Most likely.

That said, Phil ended up sleeping on the couch of Louise's hotel room that night. He had said he'd just catch a cab and that it was no big deal, but- fact about her: she wasn't just Darcy's mum, she was also a worried mother hen when it came to her friends. At least the ones like Phil, who were a bit of a mess and really had no one else around most of the time to worry. He had parents, but it was none of their business what (nothing) and who (no one) Phil got up to. Sometimes Louise even sent him food, because it was a well-known fact that Phil could pretty much only make stir fry, spaghetti and prepackaged meals, excluding the odd batch of brownies here and there. Not to mention the fact that Darcy absolutely loved when her Uncle Phil came over because it meant doing silly things like having ice cream for breakfast and building pillow forts and making plush animals talk. He had ended up staying in the hotel room until supper with Darcy while Louise was out with Brooke, Meg and Elle.

Excluding the day spent with Louise, the next many days were rather uneventful. As far as Phil could recall, he only left his flat once, and that was solely because his coffeemaker either quit working or he broke it. In all honesty, he wasn't so sure which it was and didn't really care. He ended up getting a new one in black instead of bright green. The green one had been cute, but it didn't match his flat's kitchen and it honestly kind of screamed 'this boy is still in uni'. Getting rid of it, as much as he liked it, to time felt like a symbol of growing up. He wasn't sure if he was ready. That little event meant a lot to him.

The night after he went to Tesco and replaced his coffeemaker from university, Phil found himself hit hard with the notion that he was now alone out in the world. His education didn't give him structure anymore and he no longer lived with his parents. There was no one to ensure he functioned. He could have a mental breakdown and not talk to anyone for weeks and they would only notice his absence on social media and, sure, eventually his lack of videos, but his viewers knew he rarely posted anyways. It scared him just how much or how little he could do any how little the world would care.

Tim had given him his number at the party and Phil really hadn't thought he would find himself calling, but- despite loving his audience and close group of friends, but he had realised he really needed someone to be there and support him and provide him with the structure and pressure to succeed that he had all throughout high school. He guessed he might as well give it a shot at least. Phil picked up his iPhone and dialed the number written in nearly illegible Sharpie on a torn napkin. It rang for almost too long and Phil's hands, pale, clammy hands with nails not well trimmed enough, were starting to shake. He thought he would drop the phone, his hands were that sweaty and gross. Suddenly, a simple phone call made him insecure. It was already 3;15 PM and he was still in his pyjamas. Not only were they pyjamas, he was wearing almost too short bright blue cookie monster pyjama bottoms and an exceedingly dorky black graphic tee with bright patterning on it. He hadn't even washed his face yet, a fact that hadn't even crossed his mind until the moment when he became hyper aware of how clogged every single one of the approximately 20,000 pores in his white-pink blotchy face must have been.

“Hey, Tim, it's Phil,” he spoke first when he heard it stop ringing and held the vain hope that he didn't sound even half as breathless as he knew that he felt about the situation.

“I know,” Tim responded without a breath. He sounded so smooth, calm and collected speaking to the spectacularly introverted twenty-nine year old.. It was mesmerising. Phil wondered if he often met boys at parties and asked them out, or if he might just be in it for a friend.

“Uhm...” Phil was at a bit of a loss for words and he felt abandoned by his own tongue which hung loose in his mouth instead of voicing his surprisingly coherent thoughts.

He'd taken too long and Tim began to talk, “I'll pick you up at seven. We'll go to the cafe.”

Phil furrowed his brow on his end of the conversation. He knew the cafe served pancakes, which excited him, even though it was a really messy food for a first date. Still, part of the statement raised an immediate red flag. Tim hadn't asked if that was a convenient time for Phil or if he even wanted to go to the cafe. Phil also always liked to drive himself to first dates so he knew he could leave safely were things to go awry, though they really never did. Somehow, he had been made to feel like this was problematic on his part and that he needed to chill, so he did. In fact, Phil convinced himself and left none of the persuasion to Tim. He easily agreed without pointing out what bothered him. Looking back, he should have known it was already a bad sign. Surely if he started out hiding how he felt about things and compromising his boundaries to the point of his discomfort then the relationship wouldn't be any good. Luckily for Tim, Phil was more than a bit daft and too cute for words.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's really short and kind of poorly written. It's not that late and I really have no valid excuse, but I'm just having a bit of a hard time thinking clearly. I'm sure you have an idea where I'm going, but please, just give me a chance here. I promise this will improve if you stick with me. I'll probably revise this at some point and improve it, hopefully with more details, a longer length for the first chapter, a more proper summary, better shitty band references that apply more (tell me if you have any), less commas (I'm doing it again now, aren't I?) and better grammar.


End file.
